Mood: Melodramatic | Post Type: Work Spotlight | Weeks Until Show: 11

More than just making

I felt last weekend I bit off more than I could chew. A creative friend asked me, "I thought you were stepping back this year to concentrate on your solo show?"

Yes, I thought I had. In my head, stepping back meant not planning an event every month. I had one in April, one in June, and then my solo show at the end of August. The other event, which I hadn't really counted, was the Fresh Air Sculpture Show. Because it wasn't an event I physically had to rock up to and be present at, I'd mentally classed it as a different beast altogether.

Well, how wrong could I be.

The Perfect Storm

Here's the crunch: both events needed inventory lists well before the event itself. This wasn't a case of packing the car with whatever stock I had and hoping for the best. No one else is going to know there are sixteen unfinished pendants sitting in my utility room waiting to be completed.

So much so, that I had to raid my website stock because I needed twenty-five pendants between the two events, and both deliveries fell in the same week. How's that for a perfect storm?
I was made to feel slightly better when I dropped work off at the Cotswold show and was told that quite a few artists had been caught out because they were also exhibiting at Bovey Craft Festival. Apparently, I wasn't the only one juggling inventory and deadlines.

Another valuable lesson learned: creating for events is far more involved than I'd appreciated. It requires planning further ahead, factoring in delivery dates, and not leaving everything until the last possible hour. Which, unfortunately, is exactly what I did. And because life likes to add an extra challenge, the only week I wasn't scheduled to be working in the Cotswolds for my day job happened to be the exact week I needed to deliver the work.

Facing the Framing

And then there was the framing. I'm not going to lie, I'd been putting it off. My last framing experience—providing two 8x6 inch pieces for the Elements Exhibition in January—almost pushed me over the edge (see What a 5mm Mistake Taught Me). The trauma from that experience had grown in my mind and turned this latest round of framing into a much bigger drama than it probably needed to be.

Although this time went more smoothly, there were still moments when my body genuinely didn't seem to know whether it was about to cry, be sick, or have a panic attack. It sounds melodramatic when I write it down. But add in ADHD overwhelm and, I suspect, a feeling many artists experience—the loneliness of having nobody to share the load with when things get difficult—and it starts to make a little more sense.

A body of work

One thing I was genuinely proud of, though, was wrapping up the four framed pieces ready for delivery. Two were in 8x6 inch frames and the other two in 10 x 7.5 inch frames, keeping with my preferred 4:3 ratio—which is why I need bespoke frames in the first place. As I wrapped them, I had one of those rare moments where I stopped focusing on what still needed doing and simply looked at what was in front of me.

And thought, Wow, this is actually starting to look like a body of work. That feeling didn't last long, of course. One piece wasn't quite straight. I'd forgotten to sign another. One had a small mark in it and another had somehow acquired a tiny hair. Frustrating when you've checked, double-checked and then checked again before taping the backs up.

Normally, the perfectionist in me would have had a field day. But this time I let it go. The pieces weren't perfect, but they were finished. And right now, four finished pieces are worth far more than four perfect pieces that don't exist.

The contradiction of selling

Of course, the next thought quickly followed: What if they sell? A strange thing to worry about, given that's theoretically the aim. But the photos I managed to take weren't great. Reflections in glass are a little bit of a nightmare, and photographing framed pieces is definitely another skill I need to learn before the solo show.

And if they do sell, I'll be delighted. I'll also immediately be thinking,"I really needed those for August."

The Lessons Learned

So although last weekend felt overwhelming, there were valuable lessons hidden amongst the stress. Some practical—like framing, planning inventory, understanding lead times, and not assuming a non-attended exhibition will somehow require less preparation.

Others more emotional—learning to let go of perfection, accepting that finished is sometimes better than flawless, and recognising that the pressure I feel is often because I care deeply about the outcome.

Perhaps the biggest lesson of all is that preparing for a solo show isn't just about making the work. It's about learning how to manage everything that comes with it. And, every now and then, remembering to stop and appreciate how far I’ve already come.

This is Episode 24 in my ‘Solo Show Diary’ series — a behind-the-scenes look at how my work develops. You can find my earlier posts here.

A Dry Run for August - The reality hits!